


when you really start to fear death you learn to appreciate life

by Sherbet_steve



Series: Movie fics [5]
Category: Léon | The Professional (1994), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Leon The Professional, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - New York City, Assassins & Hitmen, Attempted Murder, Child Murder, Childhood Trauma, Cigarettes, Consensual underage, Corruption, Crime Fiction, Crossover, Dark, Death, Death of Major Characters but only one that furthers the plot, Drama, Drugs, Fake Character Death, Flirting, Gen, Geralt is still awkward but at least he's verbal, Geralt is street smart not book smart, Geralt uses guns not swords, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Uses His Words, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Feelings, Guns, Healing, Homophobic Language, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt No Comfort, I'm bad at tagging sorry, Illiteracy, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Killing, Kinda, Love, M/M, Minor Character(s), Murder, Mutual Pining, Near Death, Not Beta Read, Obsession, Out of Character, Possessive Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Possessive Jaskier | Dandelion, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Roach is a plant, Russian Roulette, Sad, Slow Burn, Strangers, Suspense, Teacher Jaskier | Dandelion, Threatened Suicide Attempt, Touch-Starved, Touching, Trauma, Underage - Freeform, Underage Smoking, Violence, enjoy!!, injuries, learning, life threatening injuries, suicidal ideations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23709796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherbet_steve/pseuds/Sherbet_steve
Summary: The professional hit-man Geralt, reluctantly takes in a young Jaskier after his family is slain by corrupt forces, Jaskier seeks revenge. Geralt and Jaskier settle into an unusual relationship as Geralt reluctantly makes Jaskier his protegee into the trade.Or Léon: The Professional turned Witcher
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Vesemir, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Movie fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1486910
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	1. Just another day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intro to our little universe... Geralt's present life and a brief glimpse at his future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like this! I hope I can do both the character's and the movie justice.

In downtown New York City a mostly deserted restaurant lay cradled by the cold city, a match lit illuminating the darkness of Vesemir’s restaurant. The now lit cigarette finding itself between the eponymous man’s lips. 

“It’s good to see ya, Geralt.” 

Geralt’s eyes flashed a dangerous gold in the low light, unmoving as Vesemir fiddled with his wine glass. The older man plucking a photo and sliding it across the table. 

“This time it’s for Morizio. You remember Morizio don’t you?”

Geralt shook his head in an affirmative as he took a sip of his lone milk glass. 

“Morizio is a big shot, so it’s gotta be done right -y’know? So this fat-bastard’s trying to start up his own little business, and it’s making big Morizio a bit nervous. He doesn’t need the heat. Morizio wants to talk to him. Can you arrange it big guy?”

Geralt sipped his milk again, his concentration was deep, only interested in the conversation’s details. Nothing from the outside world got to him easily. A stray drop of milk on Geralt’s lip was wiped away with his thumb, as Vesemir awaited his answer.

“Yes… I can.” Geralt retrieved the photo from the table; displaying the foretold fat man in the picture.

\---------------

It was a gray day in lower Manhattan as the fat-man in the photo stepped out of a limo with darkened and fortified windows. Eight bodyguards accompanied him as he entered the apartment, leaving one guarding the elevator and the others following upstairs.

Inside the apartment at last, a doorbell rang and a sultry blonde opened the door. She smiled as she saw the fat man, but the same smile she’d probably have if someone handed her ten-thousand dollars. 

“Make it good. We got an hour.” The fat man sleazed. He led her into another room while his men opened a couple attache briefcases beginning to transfer many bags of white powder. 

Meanwhile Geralt rode the subway, carrying a toolbox wearing a large black raincoat and dark glasses. Unfortunately the same mutation that left Geralt with snow white hair and golden eyes left him a bit… sensitive to harsh lights, like the fluorescents of the dank subway. All in all Geralt looked to be headed to ‘work’ like any other commuter.

Geralt stood in front of the same building the fat-man resides in. The first bodyguard at the bottom of the elevator suddenly had the butt of a silencer against his temple, Geralt hidden from sight. 

“Call your boss; tell ‘im I wanna talk to him.”

Inside the apartment the aforementioned man had a hard time tearing himself away from the blonde. Pissed he was interrupted, but the call must have been important that he _had_ to answer it.

“What the fuck is it?”

“Burt… downstairs. There’s a guy who says he wants to talk to you.”

“Are you out of your fucking head? Can’t you tell I’m busy? Who the fuck is it? What the fuck does he want?”

Geralt turned fully to Burt “Tell him I’m coming up.”

“He’s coming up.”

The fat man heard a dry snap as Burt uttered his final words. The blond forgotten as he started to panic. Three bodyguards left the apartment and waited at the elevator with guns drawn. 

Downstairs the elevator shut and started to ascend. One guard radios another on the fire-escape on the other side of the apartment of the potential problem.

“Mikey, wake up. We got a guest.”

Mikey took his own gun out and began to pace nervously. 

The elevator rose, the bodyguards too nervous to pump it full of shells as it came to a stop. The fat man remained nervous even with the three guards in the apartment. A bodyguard opened the elevator door; Burt resembled swiss cheese, but Geralt was nowhere in sight.

On the other side of the building a small trap door opened above Mikey’s head, a metal stem with a small mirror, like a dentist’s tool dipping out of it. The reflection of Geralt’s eye showing in the makeshift periscope until he effectively spotted the lone guard. 

Back at the elevator one guard spots a lone string from Burt’s body. Lifting his jacket to find the source, only to be met with a grenade missing it’s pin.

The elevator and landing are blown to bits. The fat-man jumped as the blonde covered her mouth to stifle the scream. None of them dared to leave the apartment to assess the damage; while on the opposite a guard furiously checked locks. Mikey started to freak out; before he could bolt, Geralt grabbed the man from above, dangling him like a puppet for a few seconds. 

The fat-man ran to the emergency exit only to find Mikey dead behind the door. The man made a wounded sound as he shut and bolted the door. The apartment had become an effective mousetrap, and they knew it.

Geralt easily broke a small hole in the kitchen tile pressing his eye against it. It was like shooting a sitting duck as he spotted the guard and fat-man in the living room. A tube slid through the small hole, a poisoned dart flying from it. A guard went down hard as the fat-man closed the living room door. The mousetrap was growing smaller.

On the balcony, a gun cartridge falls- seemingly from the roof. As the two body guards realized the killer was most likely there, they cautiously moved onto the balcony.

Suddenly a metal partition falls, separating them physically and visually from the fat-man. Simultaneously the lights go out on the fat-man. Shots rang out on the balcony, the trapped man was about to pass out. The silence Geralt lived in was unbearable. Through one of the bullet holes in the curtain, a golden eye flashed. 

A ‘knock-knock’ pounded onto the partition. With a cry the fat-man fired his uzi into the metal, creating a morbid dot-to-dot. The man whimpered as he realized he didn’t hit anything. He scrambled for a cordless phone.

“911 Police Emergency. Please state your name and reason for calling.”

“Officer down, Officer down! Come quick - help!”

“Hold on, I’ll get a detective.” A muffled version of “Bridge over troubled water” played through the phone while the man awaited a detective. The Fat-man backed into a dark corner to hide. Out of the darkness the sheen of a blade glinted over the man’s throat. Geralt's face peering from the darkness.

“Jefferson here; did you say officer down?”

The fat-man was sweating profusely at this point, his grip on the phone slipping as he cradled it against his cheek. “I’ll call back later.” he shuddered as he hung up the phone. Geralt showed him a slightly crumpled piece of paper. 

“Dial this number.”

The fat-man’s fingers trembled as he dialed. Half-naked the blonde tip-toed across the room nervously. Trying to make a cute smile at Geralt and the man through her terror. 

“...I’ll… I’ll call ya later. Ok Bubba?” She left without a glance back, Geralt hadn’t moved an inch.

“I got half of Bolivia in that suitcase over there - hasn’t even been cut yet! Go ahead, take it, it’s yours!”

Geralt remained unmoved “Mister Morizio would like to speak to you.”

“Hello…?

“Ah, so you’re back in town?” The grizzled voice of Morizio crackled through the speakers.

“Uhhh… not really. Only today.”

“I see… so we could say that today is your last day in the city, that we’ll never see your fat-fucking-face again. Right?”

“...Yeah ...right.”

“Lemme speak to our mutual friend.” the fat-man gently passed the phone back as Geralt took the phone with his unoccupied hand.

“What should I do with him?”

“Make sure that he understands, then turn ‘im loose.” Geralt hung up and paused as he stared down at the pathetic trembling man.

“So… do you understand?”

“Yes I understand.” 

Geralt removed the knife and retreated back into the darkness. The fat-man took one step and fainted.

\-----------------

Geralt sat alone on the subway, like any other passenger. Some rowdy young wannabe thugs helped themselves to a man’s grocery bag, the man not daring to move. 

Geralt quietly observed, before turning his gaze to the window.

\------------------

Geralt walked up the stairs at his apartment building, a bit tiredly. As he stepped onto his floor he came across a young boy sitting on the stairs. The boy hid his cigarette as he spotted Geralt. He was adorable, half angel, half devil with a world of hurt brimming in those cornflower blue eyes. He was not yet a man, but not a child anymore. In any case he was extremely pretty. 

They exchanged distant smiles, until Geralt noticed the black eye and bruised cheek marring the boys otherwise pure features. Geralt walked past him about a quarter way down the hallway before he turned back.

“Why’d ya hide the cigarette?”

“I don’t know. So you don’t think I’m shitty. Ya know, it’s not cool for kids to smoke… I know. But the whole world’s got problems.” He shrugged like it wasn’t his fault.

Geralt motioned to the boy's face and eye “What happened?”

The boy took a drag of his cigarette before he faced Geralt. “Fell off my bike.”

Geralt accepted the answer and continued to the end of the hallway. 

“Hey! Don’t say anything to my dad - about the cigarette I mean. Okay?”

Geralt nodded in agreement as he entered his own apartment at the end of the hallway. As his own door closed the door to the boy’s opened. He put out the cigarette and waved his arms to clear the air, before popping a cherry red lollipop into his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! This is unbeta-ed so if you find any mistakes please be gentle when you tell me :)
> 
> Comments and kudo's are greatly appreciated!!


	2. a certain sense of hopelessness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier's slice of life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the formatting is a little weird. I struggled getting the time line where it was evident this was all happening simultaneously... XC Sorry <3

From an unassuming apartment stepped one Detlaff Eretein, sleazy wearing a suit just on the wrong side of tight. Following Dettlaff was the boy's father, bickering with the suited man. The older man was a little drunk, juxtaposed to Ceallach, calm and confident as he took the drunk man’s face in his hands.

“You know we don’t need the _whole_ book; we just wanna take-out the names of the company boys. I’ll give you the night to think it over nitwit. If I don’t have any news by noon…” He cocked his head in a dangerous smirk as he patted the father’s cheeks. “I’ll have news…”

Ceallach walked by the boy as he left, for a second they met gazes before the boy looked away. His father approached him, roughly grabbing his shoulder, anger fueling him as he took in the heavy smog of cigarette smoke.

“Jaskier!” he barked “What about your homework? Did you do it or what?”

“I showed it to you when you came in.”

“Oh yeah?” the man sneered “Well instead of smoking like a bum you can help your sister clean-up the goddamn house!”

Jaskier blinked back the tears in his eyes as his father’s grip on his shoulder turned mean, a shove to his lower back as he silently walked back to the apartment. His father slammed the door behind him as Jaskier flinched. There was a certain sense of hopelessness most children knew, that when adults had alcohol, they became more brave and irascible, there was nothing they could do about it either.

\--------------

In the silence of Geralt’s apartment, he found peace in the warm shower. When the water squeaked off he passed the fogged mirror, grabbing his bathrobe and slicking his hair back into a low bun.

Walking over to a plant in the next room he sprayed it with a lone spray bottle, a small smile gracing his features as he mumbled about his day to the foliage.

As night fell, the apartment held one little light, shining above Geralt as he rested in his armchair. Relaxation and an air of meditation fell over the man, not moving a muscle. Next to a large hand was a gun, a common sleeping companion of Geralt’s, only second to the double bass case looming huge against the adjacent wall.

\----------------

As the sun began its daily rise, so did the daily routine in Jaskiers home. Wearing a fluorescent stretch-suit his older sister did aerobics in front of their old TV. Jaskier stretched out in a recliner behind her, the same as Geralt’s. Jaskier seemed solemn, head lowered, the faces of his family remained obscured as he never took the time to face them much anymore. Living with headless ghosts that he had come accustomed to. He gazed down at his watch impatiently.

“Okay, that’s twenty minutes; it’s my turn now.”

“If you change the channel, I’ll smash your face in!”

“You make me sick! We made a deal; twenty minutes each. Liar!”

At that moment Jaskier let his voice die down as his little sister walked in, wearing pajamas and half asleep. Jaskier lifted her into the chair and into a warm hug as he smiled down at her. “Good morning Ciri. Still sleeping?” She nodded as she rubbed her eyes. Her bright face smiling goofily at Jaskier as he ran his hand through her downy hair.

“Good morning, children.” At the sound of the voice both Jaskier and Cirilla’s smiles disappeared. Pavetta was Ciri’s mother. Jaskier’s father’s fifth wife. Who he made a point of avoiding her like the plague. 

Pavetta entered dressed in her ‘uniform’ of course it wasn’t much, but not out of place for the strip joint she entertained. She approached Jaskier and ran her hand through his brown locks. He pulled away quickly with a grimace.

“She took your turn?” Jaskier didn’t respond. “C’mon, be nice, let him watch a little.”

“He just wants to watch those goddamn cartoons! It wouldn’t hurt him to move his ass a bit.”

“I am not the one with the fat ass here!” Jaskier spat.

“You two stop it now! All right? FInish your exercises and let him watch his cartoons, okay?” she turned her attention from Jaskier’s sister to the boy himself “And you, get dressed meanwhile!”

\----------------- 

Geralt started his day wedging his feet under his dresser to do a sit up routine in silence. Like everyday.”

\-----------------

Jaskier’s father entered the living room, and pressed up against Pavetta, as she readied a lunch bag. Out of the corner of his eye Jaskier watched, still not ready for school. 

“Where ya going dressed like that?”

“Whatcha think? I’m going to work.” Pavetta rolled her eyes. 

“Dressed like that? Must be some job, babe. If I was around nothing’d get done all day!” He grabbed her ass and moved away.

“Hey, you can touch - but don’t damage the merchandise honey! Where did I put my bag?”  
She headed toward the bedroom with Jaskier’s father trailing right behind her.

“If you touch the remote control again, I’ll break your fucking head!” Jaskier sighed knowing he was out of options as he settled.

His father shut the bedroom door as Pavetta applied her makeup, coming up behind her, rubbing against her as he lifted her skirt. 

“Always said I was a morning person - y’know?”

“What’s gotten into you lately? You’re a goddamn rabbit. I’m gonna be late to work again.”

“Five minutes, just five I promise.” He began to grab her all over, hands landing on her hips.

\------------

Geralt gently polished the dust off of his double-bass case with a cloth; caressing the case almost as if it were a beloved woman.

\--------------

Their father sat Pavetta on the sink as he spread her legs.

\--------------

Geralt opened the case revealing a manifold of weapons, from uzis to grenades. 

\--------------

Jaskiers parents went at it against the sink, oblivious to the world around them.

\--------------

Geralt polished a Beretta 93.

\--------------

Jaskier watched his sister lay on the floor scissor kicking her legs to the rhythm.

\--------------

Still on the sink Pavetta was reaching her release, his father right behind.

\--------------

Geralt cocked the hammer of an empty gun, pointing it at the inside of the double-bass case.

\--------------

The couple was about to explode.

\--------------

Geralt aimed.

\--------------

Jaskier pushed channel 7, Japanese cartoons. A ‘transformer’ screamed and sprayed bullets from a machine gun. 

“You’ll pay for that fag!” Jaskier’s sister kicked him meanly as they started to fight, Jaskier clearly at a disadvantage.

\--------------

Geralt slowly released the hammer of the gun.

\--------------

Jaskier broke free and ran toward the bedroom. 

“Daddy?! Daddy?! Make her get off of me! Daddy?!”

Jaskier’s parents were evidently not finished as Jaskier bawled.

“What the fuck is going on?! Didn’t you learn to knock first goddammit?”

Jaskier softly closed the door. He leaned against the closed door as he watched his sister in the living room laying on the floor scissor kicking her legs to the rhythm again.

\--------------

Geralt shrugged on his raincoat, as he opened a nearby window. He rested his plant on the windowsill before exiting his apartment. In the hallway in front of Jaskier’s apartment he leant against the door listening as the aerobics music blasted.

“Goddammit! Kill that fucking music and do a little work around here, clean up a bit! I’m sick-n’-tired of this fuckin’ mess. Get to it! No one is leaving her until this place is all neat! Got that?”

Geralt stepped away from the door as the sound of a mean slap followed the music turning off. He headed toward the stairs and into the streets of the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like this!! Leave a comment and kudo's if you enjoyed!! Thank you!! xoxox


	3. does it get easier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to go south

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read the end notes for a few warnings of this chapter. Make sure you're heading the tags as well <3

Geralt found himself at the movies, a practically empty theater swallowed in darkness. Geralt watched intensely, studying the actor’s movements. On the screen Fred Astaire cut loose, bouncing off the walls, Geralt tapped his knee entranced. 

Geralt met the eyes of a man sitting nearby and smiled with too many teeth trying to share his excitement. “It’s just incredible! The way he moves! I’ve seen it thirty times and I still don’t know how he does it!”

The man who cursed himself for sitting there by chance, wanted nothing to do with Geralt. The snowy haired man easily forgot about the other viewer as he retrained his eyes on the screen.

\--------------

Geralt made his way up the stairs to his apartment slowly. He noticed Jaskier sitting on the stairs again, this time sporting a bloody nose, head down and finger pressed against his face to keep the blood from flowing. Geralt stopped in front of the boy, a curious look on his face as Jaskier met his gaze.

“Maybe you should stop riding that bike so much.” Geralt paused, he handed the boy a tissue.

Jaskier was surprised at first, a bit suspicious, if only for the fact that someone was giving him something for free. He took it with trembling fingers.

“Thanks.” A long pause followed as he wiped his nose, finally stopping the bleeding. 

“Is it always like this or does it get easier as when you’re older?...”

Geralt thought for a moment “Always like this. Just gotta deal with it.”

Jaskier lowered his head again as Geralt passed him on the way to his apartment,

“Hey… I’m goin shoppin’ You need some milk?” Geralt thought, if only to make the boy happy he nodded. 

“One bottle or two? It’s two right?” Geralt smiled in agreement, before Jaskier raced down the stairs. Geralt entered his apartment and closed the door softly.

\--------------

Geralt wet a wash cloth under his kitchen faucet. One by one he meticulously cleaned each leaf of his plant whispering to it the whole time.

\--------------

A group of men slowly walked up the creaking stairs to Jaskier’s door. Dettlaff led the group, he didn’t bother knocking before kicking down the door. Jaskier’s sisters were taken hostage immediately, forced to watch as the men beat the hell out of the father, tearing apart their home.

\--------------

Standing in front of his door Geralt made a small hole, not trusting the peep hole, he watched the events in the hallway, a gun resting in his hand as usual.

\--------------

Inside the apartment their father grabbed a gun hidden behind the curtain, shooting a man dead as the slaughter reached its crescendo. In a flash Pavetta, Ciri, Jaskier’s father and older sister were shot dead. Instantly the living room exploded in a bloodbath like a match in a pool of kerosene. 

Tranquility followed

“Well that’s that.” Dettlaff sighed, wiping his hand on the armchair. “Let’s turn this place upside-down: we gotta find that book!”

The main guard Eredin kept guard in the hallway. Geralt took a breath and followed the sound of another door creaking open across the hallway.

An old woman looked around the hallway. “Hey sonny, what’s going on? What’d ya do to the poor family?”

“Everything’s all right, don’t worry. You just go back inside.” The old woman was evidently deaf or almost all the way there.

“What’d y’say?”

Eredin scoffed as he raised his voice, anxiety settling in his bones “I said ‘Everything is alright’” Eredin quickly flashed a police badge “Official business, ma’am. You just go along back inside now.”

‘Pssh! Since when is shootin’ up an apartment in the middle of the afternoon ‘official business’?”

Eredin growled as he fired two shots into the ground by her feet. “I said get the fuck outta here didn’t I?”

The old lady grumbled but didn’t push her luck as she headed back inside. “Mother of God! The world has changed. They used to protect us, now - pop pop pop! Bang bang bang! ‘We’re the police’!” Finally she shut the door. 

Geralt was worried; he put his pistol down and picked up a Kalashnikov as the agents continued searching for the book.

Jaskier came up the stairs holding two very large bags of groceries, his steps slowed as he felt something wrong. Geralt worried further.

Eredin watched her approach, Jaskier keeping his eyes on the ground watched the feet of his dead father being dragged down the hallway. Without breaking stride he walked right past the apartment as if nothing was amiss, pretending not to notice Eredin guarding the door.

Jaskier made it to the end of the hallway, stopping in front of Geralt’s door, he began to ring the buzzer repeatedly, as tears streamed down his cheeks. Eredin still trained an eye on the boy, Geralt’s worry was boiling over, he wasn’t sure what to do. 

Finally the man opened the door to let Jaskier in, the boy walking in without a word. Geralt didn’t take his eyes off of Eredin as he shut the door, reclaiming his AK and watching through the hole.

Jaskier felt like he was in a trance as he put the groceries away meticulously.

\--------------

The men tore the apartment apart looking for the book. Agent Emhyr turned to Dettlaff from a bedroom. “Hey there’s two beds in here. We missed one of the kids.”

Dettlaff growled “Maybe at school… or in the building somewhere.” He picked up a family photo with a vaguely recognizable Jaskier, though more pudgy faced and happy, another woman with his father. 

“Go check the other floors and out-back. Maybe he knows something.”

\--------------

Jaskier crossed the room without looking at Geralt still at the door. He sat in the armchair and faced the television even though the screen was still blank. Geralt gave him a quick glance, frowning at how lost the boy looked,

\--------------

Emhyr stepped into the hallway to talk to Eredin. “We missed one of the kids, a boy. I’ll go check some of the neighbors. He can’t be far.”

Eredin had a slight recollection of the boy that went into Geralt’s apartment. The man hesitated before he headed to Geralt’s door. 

Geralt cocked his Kalashnikov and quietly thumbed the safety.

Eredin paused before knocking, just as his hand raised Jaskier turned the TV on to blaring cartoons. 

Geralt startled as the overly enthusiastic voices reached his ears. Eredin placed his ear against the door with a small smile. A police siren sounded in the distance as Dettlaff looked out a window.

Eretein turned and ushered the other men to the door. “Let’s get out of here!” another agent relayed the message as they all started to leave.

Dettlaff turned to Emhyr “You stay here and tell the cops what happened.”

“What should I tell ‘em?”

“Tell them that we were just doing our jobs.” 

Emhyr nodded at Dettlaff and the rest of the agents evacuated the ransacked apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features murder of a child and innocents, though not extremely gruesome use caution.
> 
> Tell me what you think so far?? xoxo


	4. I’ll be dead before I’m old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have your whole life ahead of you anyway, and it’s not going to be the life of a hitman. Understand?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay last chapter for today xD thank you for putting up with me...
> 
> Hope you enjoy this one, tensions are high.

Geralt found himself drawn to the living room, after checking the windows to assure their safety he shut off the television. Geralt truly did not know how to approach Jaskier, so he sighed.

“What’s your name?”

“Julian… But Jaskier to everyone.” Geralt nodded.

After a pause Jaskier turned to the man further “What about you?”

“Geralt…” He replied a little surprised.

“Cute name… Geralt… Unique.”

“Sorry about your father…”

“Anyway. If someone didn’t do it some day or another, I probably would have done it myself.” Geralt was at a loss, he didn’t have much experience with people, especially young boys like Jaskier.

“Your mother, she… was she home?”

“She’s not my mother. I mean _wasn’t_ my real mother. And my sister wanted to lose weight; bet she never looked better! Wasn’t even my sister really, just a half-sister. And not a good half.”

Jaskier met Geralt’s eyes and began to weep profusely. Geralt fumbled, completely lost.

“Stop it! Take this…” He handed the boy a tissue “If you couldn’t stand them, why are you crying?”

Jaskier sniffled, tears still streaming down his pink cheeks. “M-My kid sister… I’m sure they killed her… Four years old, little Ciri, never did anything! So beautiful, so pure. Never cried, just used to snuggle up next to me… I was more a mother to her than that goddamn pig ever was!”

Geralt moved closer, trying to cheer him up. “Hey, don’t talk about pigs like that! They’re usually much nicer than people.”

Jaskier blew his nose and then looked surprised at Geralt. “But they smell like shit.”

“That’s not true!” he paused and glanced around. “As a matter of fact right now I have one in the kitchen that is very clean and smells very, very nice.”

After a moment Jaskier cocked his head. “...You don’t have a pig in your kitchen!”

“Yes I do.”

“Let’s go; I was just in there and I didn’t see any goddamn pig that’s for sure!”

“He must be in the bathroom then. He’s crazy about keeping clean, I’m telling you.”

Jaskier had stopped crying, but only giving a little smile. 

“Don’t move, I’ll get him.” Geralt left the living room to disappear into another room, calling out :Piggy? Are you hiding? C’mon Piggy. Where are you? C’mon out Piggy.”

Jaskier didn’t leave his perch on the armchair but leaned to get a glimpse at where Geralt looked until he was out of sight. 

“There you are!”

Jaskier couldn’t believe his ears as muffled pig noises met them. From behind the doorway appeared Piggy. An oven mitt shaped like a pig's head, Geralt had slid over his hand like a glove as he sat next to Jaskier.

In a deep pigs voice Geralt spoke and moved his hand. “Hi Jaskier.”

Jaskier smiled as he watched “Hi Piggy.”

“...How ya doing”

“I’ve seen better days - but I’ve also seen worse.” The pig looked Jaskier over inquisitively before Geralt laughed, proud of himself as Jaskier wiped away tear tracks. 

“Have you ever seen a real pig?”

“...Nah.”

“...What about a cow?”

“...No.”

“Have you seen any animals?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier thought before he shrugged “Dogs, all my life. Hey why are you always drinking milk?”

“It’s good for your health. If you took better care of yourself then you’d have known that. You wanna glass?”

“No thanks.” Geralt didn’t know what to say, the silence stifling until they heard the police inspecting Jaskier’s empty apartment.

“You have anyone to go to? Any family anyplace else?”

Jaskier shook his head as Geralt went to the peephole again. He picked up his gun and slowed his breath.

“What are you doing with a gun like that in the house?”

“Uh… it’s mine.”

“Well I didn’t think it was the old bat’s down the hall!”

As Geralt remained at the peephole, Jaskier looked around for hints about the stoic man. Noticing the double-bass case, he stood and opened it up, his face curled into amazement as he took in the assortment of guns.

“Melitele's tits!” 

Geralt frowned as he moved the boy out of the line of fire from any potential entrances. “Just sit over here please.” he muttered as he closed the case.

“Are they real?”

“What good are fake ones?” he chuckled as he returned to the peephole.

“And how exactly do you make your living again?”

Geralt hesitated “Cleaner.”

\--------------------

A few hours later the pair found themselves at the table as night fell. Each had a glass of milk in front of them, Jaskier dipping a cookie in his, 

“What exactly do you clean?”

“Scum, dirt, shit - whatever - all the disgusting stuff… I’m a hitman.”

“A real Hitman?”

“Yeah.”

Jaskier was fascinated, squirming excitedly in his chair, tugging the sleeves of his shirt over his palms. “Cool! I never met a real hitman before! Tell me how it works - c’mon tell me!”

“There’s a phone call, a meeting. I get a picture, a name, and a place. Then I gotta take care of it as clean and fast as possible.”

“You only kill bad guys?”

“Usually, if there is a price on your head, you’re no angel.”

“You’d kill anyone?”

“No women, no kids - professional ethics.”

“So you aren’t like the guys who killed my sister?”

“No.”

“Why didn’t you get ‘em? With all these guns you could have taken care of them in a second.” Jaskier spoke a bit frustrated as he tugged at his collar, curling his legs underneath him. As night fell and the air cooled, his loose tank top and small black shorts only kept him so warm…

“It was none of my business. I don’t work like that. Only under contract. Not for pleasure or right and wrong. I’m no jury or judge. Just a cleaner. And that’s what I do… Clean.”

Jaskier thinks for a moment “How much would it cost to hire you to get the guys that killed my sister?”

Geralt paused and looked over the waif of a boy in front of him. The bruise around his eye and the dried blood that lingered under his nose. “It’s expensive.”

“How expensive?”

“They were pros… cops, maybe FBI… four… so…”

“Come on… Spit it out, I don’t have all day.”

“Twenty-thousand. Five K a head.”

Jaskier felt his jaw drop at the cost, “I’m a little shy… You take IOU’s”

“Never.”

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“No… I don’t trust anyone.”

Jaskier nodded with a little shrug, staring down at his lap. “I guess you’re right. I don’t have anyone to trust either. Except you… a little. You’ve been good with me….” Jaskier paused as he glanced over Geralt’s visage again, the barely visible milk mustache sticking to his stubble. The handsome cut of his jaw line. Even the dorky suspenders over his undershirt, the well worn tan pants and dark boots. Whether the darkness was blood or not he didn’t care. “Hey… Maybe I could be your helper? Since I can’t pay you, I could help you out - you teach me, then I can get ‘em myself.”

Geralt was taken aback, setting his glass down, halfway from his lips. “You can’t learn overnight.”

“Who said ‘overnight’? I got time. I’m young, serious, smart. Look did I ever buy you the wrong stuff?”

“Buying two bottles of milk at the Korean Deli is not the same as making a hit. It’s a real job…. And I work alone.” Geralt paused to finish off his milk avoiding Jaskiers disappointment. “...And you have your whole life ahead of you anyway, and it’s not going to be the life of a hitman. Understand?”

Jaskier scoffed, blue eyes now brimming with rage, or fear, or bone deep sadness Jaskier couldn’t discern.  
“My life? The hell are you talking about? No family, no place to go. Three months since I’ve been to school. Now I'm in the streets with all the other junkies and cocksuckers. _Understand_? And that’s what I’ll be in a month! Some fuckers bitch… That’s what I got in front of me!” Jaskier paused to catch his breath. “...You’re my only chance, Geralt. It’s like heaven sent you down to save me or something. Come on… We gotta work together. A-and I can do other things. I can do laundry… sometimes I shrink stuff but it always stretches back to size. Ya know? So it’s a deal?”

“No.”

Jaskier let out a wounded noise, “Come on! Gimme a chance! You know that I’m bright enough. I’m a hard worker. One day you’re gonna be old and you’ll wanna leave your business to someone right?”

“I’ll be dead before I’m old.”

“Really?” Jaskier rolled his eyes while Geralt’s fists clenched tighter. “You know when you’re gonna die?”

“No but…”

“You don’t know anything man! Listen you’re gonna live to be a hundred and _trust me_ you’re gonna want to have someone by your side when you’re too weak to lift that milk to your lips anymore.”

Geralt sighed as he set his fist on the table a bit harder than intended. “Look… you’ve only been here two hours and you’re already pissing me off.” Geralt spoke through gritted teeth.

Jaskier began to calm down… only to burst into tears again “Sorry…” he sniffled wiping his nose pathetically “What do you want me to do? I got no place to go!” he begged.

Geralt furrowed his brow, helpless and confused, “You’ve had a rough day, go to sleep and we’ll talk tomorrow. Okay?”

Jaskier nodded and stood up, tired enough that he stumbled, having to rely on Geralt to help him to the bedroom, and to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“Hey… Listen I’m sorry.”

Geralt busied himself looking for a blanket “Forget it.”

“You’ve been really great with me… It’s not always like that you know?” He squeezed piggy between his arms as Geralt set a blanket on the edge of the bed starting to leave the room. 

“And you’re the first grown-up I’ve met that doesn’t touch me every three fucking minutes.Which is nice… for a change.” Geralt tried to fake a smile at the tired boy. “G’night Geralt.”

“Good night...Jaskier.” Jaskier smiled, already almost asleep as Geralt shut the door.

\--------------------

It was the middle of the night and Geralt sat in his armchair, sleep avoiding him in place of thought. Finally he made a silent decision and stood up. He opened his double-bass case and took out a gun, attaching a silencer to the end. He quietly entered the bedroom and approached Jaskier. The boy was sleeping soundly, curled tight around Piggy. 

Geralt couldn’t bring himself to aim at Jaskier…

He returned to his armchair to close his eyes, unsettled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me a comment if you enjoy!!!! xoxox

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment and Kudos if you enjoyed, Be nice this is my first Witcher Fic :)


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